I thought I would be better by now but I feel my heart breaking…i can’t stop thinking about him
They say you can’t miss something you never had…and it’s true. I had never really had passion…never. I had illusions of it: promises of it. And for the longest time, I missed what could have been.
He could have been mine. We could have been great. I should have said this or that. Life might have been better.
And then it was.
I was in Germany for two months. At first, I was overwhelmed by it. I thought I would miss home and my friends…but I didn’t. I didn’t miss anything, except my room and personal things, like my books, make up, shoes, laptop. Then, I felt I could actually live there. The thought alone was terrifying. Suddenly, it was what I wanted. I wanted to do that Masters, I wanted to get accepted, more than anything.
I went out with a friend one day. Friend…not sure I could really call him that, to begin with. You see, he’s a close friend to my brother in law’s family. I met him three years ago. We might have exchanged twenty sentences in the three weeks I was there. Nothing more. So he’s not really a friend, he never was. He was a friendly acquaintance. Until I decided to listen to my sister’s advice, and call him to go out one night, like he had so kindly offered.
I was surprised over the fact that we got along so well. He and I are so different, after all. I’m outgoing, borderline wild, outspoken, bubbly…he’s laid back, quiet, I could even say he’s shy. I’m the kind of girl that dances on tables at parties, and wears bright colors you can spot a mile off. He wears jeans, and hoodies to parties. Drinks his share, smiles, talks, maybe sways around for a bit…but that’s about it.
Everything that night pointed to disaster. I was ready for a night out at some dingy little bar or pub, with a couple of beers, maybe extended till 2 a.m., tops. I was relying on my conversational skills (which I am afraid I can brag about with good reason), and the probability of some friend of his I might have more in common with.
Of course, the only friends he had over that night was his roommate, and his roommate’s girlfriend. But as time wore on, and we played a drinking game (of my creation), I realized I actually liked him quite a lot. We had tons to talk about, and whether it was actual chemistry or just the massive amounts of alcohol we were drinking, the night was pleasant. I was ready to stay there till two, drinking, laughing, and talking. Going out to a pub or dancing wasn’t necessary. I was having more fun than I had ever thought possible.
Finally, I said I needed to use his bathroom. “Quick! Quick! Or the tram will leave us!” he urged. “Tram?” I asked. Apparently, we were going out. He had planned a college experience I might like. So I rushed, and went back to the kitchen, expecting to leave as a group. But it would only be the two of us. That in itself was quite a shock. We took the tram, went to an underground bar, where we had a couple of shots (which, much to my surprise, he insisted in paying for), and then made our way to a club, where there was Chart Music.
Now, you all know that I am quite the party girl. Last year alone, there wasn’t a single weekend that I wasn’t out dancing or drinking, and I always had some anecdote or another to discuss when I arrived home. Even on the craziest nights, I would open my door at 3:30 sharp.
Now, however, it was 4:30 and I was still dancing like the night was young. If he hadn’t looked at his watch to tell me we should get going I never would have left. It was on this night that I realized two essential things:
1. I didn’t miss home at all.
I couldn’t believe how much fun I was having with him. At first, I thought about the clubs back home, the music, the people. How back home, I would have someone to dance with that could actually dance. I would already have about forty pictures on my camera, in which at least ten would be with the guy I kinda had a thing with, whose arm would be around my waist.
But in the course of ten minutes, I absolutely forgot about everything. I didn’t miss my friends. I didn’t miss having a private table in the VIP lounge, I didn’t miss any of the guys that were there.
I was thrilled at having him so close. And what was even more exciting, was the way he looked at me. Like he found me endearing, like he too was shocked at who I had turned out to be… like my crazy dancing and silly moves were the cutest thing he had ever seen. He made me feel special…in a way no one ever had.
2. I was exhausted.
I suddenly realized how much damage had been done to me back home. He told me he had to go, but only for a little while (probably to smoke or use the bathroom). I was terrified he wouldn’t come back. It was silly, really, because he had specifically been told to bring me back home safely, and he had promised he would. But the memories of past guys I had dated who had left me alone in a club to hook up with another girl in my face was too fresh and present at the moment.
What if this had been his plan all along? I could hardly get mad at him for meeting the girl he really liked, especially if he was only taking me out as a favor to my sister. Hadn’t he told me that tonight I was like his little sister? That I could dance with another guy if I wanted to? Wasn’t it just his way of telling me that we weren’t there as a couple, just friends, and that he had no attachments to me at all. I couldn’t be upset about it…but I was. And for a moment, I saw a pretty girl, tall and blonde, with legs that went up forever talking to him. Flirting and dancing with him. Yes… he had left me. And then I heard it. My name in my ear, and I turned around to see him with a puzzled look on his face. Whomever I was staring at, clearly wasn’t him.
He never left my side after that. Anywhere we went, we went together. What was more, we went holding hands. At first, when we found our finger intertwining, we quickly let go. I couldn’t really say if it was my fault or his… I don’t remember who did what, I just remember we were holding hands. But then, it became more often, and it lasted longer. If we went to the bar, we would hold hands. I figured it might be a friendly way of protecting me from other’s eyes or approaches. But then, as we made our way down from the bar to the dance floor, he took both my hands in his, and hugged me from behind, wrapping my waist in his arms. No. Friends don’t just do that.
I felt then, that everyone else had disappeared Faded into oblivion. i couldn’t have remembered my best friend’s name if my life depended on it. And it was the thrill of not feeling twenty pair of eyes on me, scrutinizing my every move, every word, that informed me of just how tired I was.
As we made our way home, at those impressive late hours, holding hands and walking in the snow, I found myself revealing something to him and me about how I felt. I had never had such a great time in my life! Being able to go out, and just be me, without any judgement or expectations! It was a relief. How could I have not seen it before? Boy, I was exhausted of always having to pretend…always having to try my absolute hardest just to meet up someone’s expectations of who I was. With him… I was free.
I could feel his thumb caressing my hand as we walked home, and he asked me multiple times, why he couldn’t remember me from the wedding. Why hadn’t we hung out then? Why hadn’t we spoken more? I knew why…it just wasn’t the right time.
I began to shiver with cold, as I got over the adrenaline of all the dancing. He asked me if I really was cold, and when I nodded he stopped me, took his hand out of the pocket of his winter jacket, and told me to give him mine. I hesitated. What was he going to do?
He took my hands in his, and began rubbing them to create friction, and therefore, heat. He then put him up to his lips, looked into my eyes, and blew. I knew I was headed for trouble then. I wish that had been the end of it…but it wasn’t. He took my left hand in his right one, locked fingers with mine, and put both of our hands in his right pocket, as though he were storing something personal, he couldn’t bare to lose. “so it doesn’t get cold anymore.” he stated.
I knew it then… I had just fallen in love.
Now you tell me, how on earth are you supposed to bounce back from that?
Cut some strings…lose some knots
How many times must we make the same mistake before we learn? Sometimes it’s only once…sometimes we are wise and learn from other people’s mistakes…sometimes we don’t learn at all. My uncle once told me that man is the only animal to stumble on the same rock twice. We choose to make those mistakes, for the sole sake of feeling something. The fall; the pain of it…or the rise; and the triumph when we get back on our feet.
I’ve come quite a long way since High School. I lost about 32 pounds, my hair grew and is no longer dyed about three different colors, I don’t have any braces, and I no longer wear glasses because I got surgery. I took a make up course, and although my chest got fairly smaller, so did the size of my pants. In contrast, my heels got taller, my dresses got shorter, and I got better at wearing both.
This year alone, I’ve had plenty of guy problems. From a twenty six year old friend, turned to one of those things where you meet at parties, and dance all night, and hold hands, to an eighteen year old boy whose mother’s car back seat I made out in, to a twenty eight year old guy that brought me my favorite chocolates to my office, and even the best friend of the closest thing I have to an ex that kissed me twice a couple of days ago. I have more friends, I’ve gone to more parties, more guys pay attention, and I am physically the best I have ever been. But I’m still alone.
I graduated with honors, magna cum laude from my university, with a Bachelor’s Degree in Economics at the age of twenty one. I know three languages, I was in the best dance academy of my country for five years, I can sing broadway tunes fairly well, I swim approximately 1500 meters in 45 minutes every day, I’ve read a substantial amount of classics for someone my age…My attitude towards people, towards guys, men, even friends has changed… but I’m still alone.
I didn’t really mind it, I had enough to keep me distracted, enough boys, enough academic and work related things…but now I’m done, degree in hand, internship over, and as much as my attitude has changed, I’m exactly where I started off from at the beginning of the year. Every single friend of mine is no longer single… all four of them have boyfriends now, and I’m still alone.
I’m alone. I have no one, and it just hit me. I don’t really care whether or not this guy from the pool brought me something back from his trip, or if a friend of mine calls me drunk at ten pm, it leads nowhere. I’ve been told to wait, that love comes when we least expect it, but… nothing yet. Nothing. Disappointment after disappointment.
My best friend has a boyfriend now, and I’m happy for her. I really am. She deserves it! She’s had a really tough couple of years: she needs someone to make her happy, someone to back her up no matter what. But don’t I also? Don’t I deserve someone like that too??
I’m on the pursuit of happiness, I have been for quite a while, and I won’t give up! I believe I’ll find my someday too… that my someday will find me, but I just really get lonely sometimes… and I kinda wish he would hurry…
I kissed him. Yes. I kissed him… well… he kissed me, but I wanted him to all along. It was all I thought about that day. It’s why I thought so much about my outfit, why I straightened my hair, why I spent an hour on my make up, why I wore heels.
I was fine with the decision. I was excited about it. Ready to embrace this new relationship in my life… and then… Then I miraculously ran into my Professor. “Leave now, you have no competition, you’ll have a guaranteed job with me when you come back from your masters. You don’t have a boyfriend, nothing’s tying you down.”
You don’t have a boyfriend… but I finally could. And now I’m not sure about anything. Do I want to leave in the first place? Why couldn’t I have just left it as a crush? Why didn’t I just cut him lose in the beginning, instead of leading him on? I had a good excuse… why let it go so far? Why go out with him? Why agree to go out again? Why let him kiss me? Why let him kiss me again?
Why did I do what they have done to me? Let things get too far, if I wasn’t sure about it? What should I do now?? Back out? Tell him he’s too young, that we’re in different stages of our lives, that I need to figure out what I want to do with my own life first before even thinking about adding someone else in the equation? “Take me out of the equation,” he said. He’s not in it. I couldn’t say that… and for some stupid reason I said “You’re already in it…”
"I’ll support you whatever you chose," he said. He doesn’t know me! I don’t need his support! He’s not a factor… That’s the problem! My idea of a relationship was that the person I’d chose to be with would be a part of the equation. That my boyfriend was someone I would like to parade around, kiss and dance with, introduce to my friends, and not someone I would second guess all the time.
I like him, yes. But he’s too young. And as mature as he is for an eighteen year old, he’s still an eighteen year old. He’s still the kid from german class that can’t even go to the same places I go to because they don’t let him in. But he’s also the guy that I wanted to tell to pull over just so I could kiss him. The guy whose car I just couldn’t seem to get out of.
One lovely night… saying things I would never say… thinking out loud, kissing, and hugging, and holding hands. I don’t regret it. But I’m not sure of it. I’m not sure I want to start whatever it is… I’m not sure I’m ready for that… I’m not sure of anything.
If anyone is reading this…anyone at all, please… tell me… what should I do?
I have criticized just about every girl who has ever gone out with a younger guy. Two years is too much! It’s just too much! Girls are far more mature than guys as it is, so if a girl goes out with a guy younger how can she expect anything?
It’s hard enough to date boys your age to begin with. The only guys I’ve liked who just happened to be my age were so immature, so unsure of what they wanted, that it was quite hard to get to anything. Last time I liked a guy my age, he ended up being a complete idiot, who not only began dating a girl five years older than him, but who would tell me multiple times how much he cared for me and missed me, only so that I could run into him and his girlfriend a couple of days later, or actually see him hooking up with another girl entirely in a party.
So then I decided that boys my age aren’t any good. I was done with boys all together… and then things with a friend of mine (five years older than me) began to shift. He began to text me, and stopped commenting on everything and anything… until I had 125 messages in my inbox folder in my phone. But he never asked me out. He told me about watching a movie once, but then cancelled… continued texting… I figured eventually, after a series of hints on how I would like that date he owed me, or how it might be easier for him to call me, that maybe he’s not sure of what he wants either.
And then, one fine morning, I listened to my mom and decided to take up Saturday German classes instead. A boy came in. I liked him as soon as I saw him, but he looked younger. That following Saturday (coincidentally enough the same day the 26 year old began texting me) the boy approached me and sat next to me in class. He was incredibly nice, and charming… so cute it was actually painful and all I could think was “please be twenty one, please be twenty one!!” because he looked younger than that.
He’s eighteen. I wanted to die. Such a cute boy…shame, only three years older and he would have been perfect. But would he??
As it turns out, the boy is interested. In fact, I’ve only known him for a month, I’ve only seen him in classes, and already he’s asked me out. Yes, a formal date. Told me that I can’t tell him how young he really is if I’m only based on german classes on Saturday. He also asked me what time I get off work (because I’ve recently just graduated from University) so that he can pick me up and we go get something to eat or drink.
Age is just a number. Whereas a twenty six year old has sent me 125 messages and hasn’t done anything else other than keep me hanging… an eighteen year old has already mustered up the courage to ask me out despite the risk of been told a flat out “no”. And as a younger friend who had once asked an older girl out told me, “it takes balls to ask an older girl out, knowing it’s just about a 99% chance you’ll get shot down with a perfectly good excuse you can’t really argue your way out of.”
What I was expecting a serious, already working, twenty six year old engineer to do, an eighteen year old med student did faster and in a much more effective way. So the obvious question arose: Either this kid knows exactly what he’s doing, and is a player in the making, or he’s so nice and young and naive that honesty and been straightforward is all he knows. I’ve asked around, and thankfully, it’s the second option.
So I have decided he’s absolutely right… age isn’t everything, it’s just a number. And experience is what really counts. Who am I to say anything about that subject anyways? I’ve never even had a boyfriend.
It takes a while to learn from mistakes. It takes plenty of them to realize that they all carried the same lesson. I know I’ve disappeared for quite some time, but it doesn’t seem like anyone has noticed, so I’ll simply carry on.
Heartbreak can change a person. In my case, heartbreak led me to want to get out of my house as much as possible. Its not that I don’t love my family, or that I don’t like spending time with them, but sometimes, been at home was like been trapped with memories. And although memories are wonderful things, sometimes even the best ones can make your life a living hell. So I would go out and party to try to erase the old memories and see if I could make new ones.
I succeeded for a while… but then I was back to the same thing. Trapped in the middle of nowhere with nothing and no one in particular. And then I met someone… well, I already knew him, but it was like seen this entirely new side of him. He became my kryptonite faster than I could even think about it. Everyone could see what he did to me, the effect he had on me. The girl who always overanalyzed everything, suddenly couldn’t care less.
"He just transforms you completely, doesn’t he? It’s like you forget about everyone and anyone around you!!"
And there was no greater truth than that.
Except maybe one. I’d done that before. And it hadn’t ended well at all. To have a friend transform into an escape, and then turn into a disappointment is something I’ve already been through once. So I decided to learn from my mistake, until I drunk dialed. “He’s not worth it!” my friends told me, and they were completely right. So I left it at that…. until I got a message a four am. And then another one and another one, until soon enough, I had forty messages in my cellphone inbox, and no more space left for new ones. “Don’t get too excited…” I thought.
Too late. I already did, especially after he proposed going to watch a movie.
Two days… two days of messaging until I abruptly cut him off. I might have learned from some of my old mistakes, but clearly not of the new ones. So I wonder if there’s a way to let him know that I have no idea what the hell I’m doing… That I am completely clueless when it comes to guys, that I have no idea how to react or answer… and that sometimes I’m a little harsh but not because I’m into them, but because I just don’t know how else to answer…
I’m always amazed at friends who say they try to read at night in bed but always end up falling asleep. I have the opposite problem. If a book is good I can’t go to sleep, and stay up way past my bedtime, hooked on the writing. Is anything better than waking up after a late-night read and diving right back into the plot before you even get out of bed to brush your teeth?
What would you do if the love of your life was getting married? Would you cry? Would you drink? Would you fight for them? Would you tell them you had always loved them, that you would always love them, and that you didn’t want them to get married? That you still believe that they’re supposed to end up with you? Would you confess that for the past three years you had done your best to forget them, to stop thinking about them, and had utterly failed? That you still have hope, despite their engagement; that you still hold on to the happy memories, despite all the bad ones; that they still make you smile, despite all the tears they’ve made you cry; that they still turn your world upside down every time you run into them in the street, despite the fact that you’ve found someone else.
And if you found out that the love of your life was already married? That they had eloped, that it was done before you could do anything to reverse it? What then? Would you still confess? Would you still have hope? Would you still fight? I’m certain you’d cry and drink, and get angry at anyone over anything. You’d either stuff yourself with whatever comfort food you could find or stop eating all together. you’d probably look for some type of escape, be it food, or alcohol, or an actual escape. Perhaps a trip, a short trip; a weekend to some resort, or spa, or town where you could party until you dropped and blacked out completely. Perhaps you would go for a longer trip; three weeks off, a month off, three months off, spend it touring around Europe, or at your old home, biking through South America, or eating and shopping around Asia, maybe in some luxurious hotel in the Bahamas, if you can’t afford it, that’s what banks are for, right? Anything to get through… anything to get by…
But maybe, if you were really destroyed, if you were really too weak to continue, you wouldn’t look for just a weekend off, or a couple of weeks or months… you’d look for a way out altogether. A different city, state, country, and if it was really that bad, a different continent. In short, a different life. If you had really tied down every hope and dream to that one person, a vacation wouldn’t be enough. You’d have to get as far away as possible and go to a place where you’d be sure you’d never run into them again. Start fresh, and maybe, someday, get over them. Maybe, someday, move on. Maybe, someday, find someone else. That might be the only way.
If you had really loved that person, and felt that that wedding belonged to you, that it was you who was supposed to be waiting on the other side of that aisle, or you walking down that aisle. If you felt that you had been robbed of the life you had wanted, that God had played some cruel joke, you’d probably start looking for the fastest way to get the hell out. You would find any excuse, a job, a friend, anything just to change where and how you were living. A job in some local newspaper of some godforsaken town, or the sellout position you would never have taken otherwise in some big and hectic city. Perhaps you’d take that spot in that one college you had discarded before because it was too far away from that person, or you’d start looking for a University with the main characteristic been that it is as far away from that person as possible.
You could do what I’m doing right now. Not only did I decide last year to go to Germany to do my masters programs, but now I want to get out of here as fast as I can, even if that means working as an Au Pair, and having to work two jobs because there’s no way I’ll get a scholarship unless I stay here for another two years, and that won’t do. And I’ve done it all. I’ve cried, I’ve drank, I’ve eaten anything I could get my hands on, and now, all I have left to do is leave. The sooner, the better.
No one will understand. They just think that it’s because of the visas, because I told them that if I don’t leave now, I might not leave ever, and that since it’s been my dream since I can remember, I have to at least try. They don’t know that I had forgotten all about that dream when I met him. That I hadn’t minded, whatsoever, to stay here, and marry him straight out of college, and have his kids. That if I decided to leave to Germany it was because there was no future left for me here, because he was with someone else. They don’t know that now, more than ever, I need to find the fastest way to get out because I can’t bear the thought of him starting his life with someone else, I just can’t.
That the pain is so strong that friends are just minor losses I can bear. In the end, they’re just reminders of everything. That it will pain me to leave my family, but it will kill me to stay. That I wish I didn’t have to leave my mom behind, because my leaving isn’t some long desperate search for independence, and partying without remedy or control, but because I need a change of scenery if I ever want to hope for true love again.
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